Maurice RAVEL (1875-1937)
Alborada del gracioso pour orchestre, M.43 (orch. 1918-1919) [7:51]
Le Tombeau de Couperin: 6 pièces pour piano deux mains, M. 68 (1914-1917) [25:52]
Piano Concerto in G major, M. 83 (1929-1931) [22:20]
Le Tombeau de Couperin: Suite d’orchestre, M. 68a (orch. 1919) [17:44]
Alborada del gracioso pour piano
(1904-1905) [7:09]
Javier Perianes (piano)
Orchestre de Paris/Josep Pons
rec. 2017/18, Philharmonie de Paris (orchestrations & concerto); Sala
Unicaja Maria Cristine, Malaga (solo pieces)
Reviewed as a 24/48 download from
eClassical
Pdf booklet included
HARMONIA MUNDI HMM902326
[81:05]
The Spanish pianist Javier Perianes first came to my notice via an
altogether splendid recording of the Grieg piano concerto and Lyric Pieces
(Harmonia Mundi). Unsurprisingly, I signed-off my review by suggesting this native of
Nerva was an artist to watch. In particular, I was struck by how assured he
is in both the large work - ably supported by Sakari Oramo and the BBC
Symphony - and its more intimate companions. Indeed,
Richard Hanlon
awarded Perianes’ recent Debussy recital a ‘Recommended’ tag. Happily, I
have this pianist’s España! album tucked away on my hard drive,
awaiting review.
It’s heartening to find the Orchestre de Paris in such good form, conductor
Josep Pons leading them in a crisp, rhythmically alert performance of Alborada del gracioso. HM’s René Möller has gone for quite a big
sound here, which may emphasise the bass drum a little too much. Still, the
lovely woodwinds are well caught, and there’s plenty of excitement, too.
The contrast between the Philharmonie de Paris, where the orchestrations
and concerto were recorded, and the studio in Malaga, where the solo works
were set down, could hardly be greater. As for the original piano version
of Le Tombeau, Ravel’s hommage to the 17th-century composer
Louis Couperin, it’s surely one of his most attractive and affectionate
creations. His yoking of baroque dance forms with modern, jazz-inspired
writing is just astonishing. In ‘Forlane’, for instance, Perianes modulates
between the two periods with a fluidity that even the admirable Steven
Osborne can’t match (Hyperion). More important, there’s a grace and delicacy to the Spaniard’s playing
that’s spellbinding. He’s also suitably animated in ‘Toccata’, Ravel’s
jewelled, sometimes bell-like sound world perfectly rendered. It helps that
all these felicities are so well caught by Julian Schwenkner’s warm, finely
detailed recording.
Sticking with HM’s order of play, we’re catapulted from the antic rigour of
a distant century to the artistic hothouse that was Paris in the Roaring
Twenties. As expected, Perianes delivers a thoughtful, highly expressive
account of the concerto, Pons and his players in rapt attendance
throughout. Some may prefer Deutsche Grammophon’s pairing of Pierre Boulez
and Krystian Zimerman in this piece, the Cleveland Orchestra at their edgy,
metropolitan best, but I was utterly seduced by the revealing restraint of
this newcomer. Quite simply, Perianes opts for depth over dazzle, infusing
the music with freshness and feeling. Thereafter, conductor and soloist are
as one in the limpid central movement, which is most beautifully framed. (And
what a lovely, immersive sound.) The sparkling finale is a delight, too,
the bass drum in Möller’s recording rather more discreet this time around.
Moving on, Pons and his Parisians give a wonderfully transparent
performance of Le Tombeau, as orchestrated by the composer in 1919.
However, the piano original is such a trove of musical treasures that
replicating its complex colour palette and subtle shadings seems well nigh
impossible. Then again, Ravel was a master orchestrator, and it shows in
every burnished bar. True, those charming baroqueries aren’t quite
as alluring in this version, but the conductor’s light touch - combined
with deft, ‘hear-through’ sound - makes for a most rewarding listen.
Finally, we’re back in Malaga for the original Alborada del gracioso, one
of the best-known sections from Miroirs (1904/5). As so often,
the Spaniard’s phrasal flair and keen ear for colour and nuance are very
much in evidence. (What an intuitive performer he is, and how open
hearted.) And while I wouldn’t want to be without Osborne’s forensic
pianism in the solos or the scintillating Boulez/Zimerman in the concerto,
Pons and Perianes’ softer, more considered approach offers unexpected
rewards. So much so, I’ve now placed this illuminating newcomer high on my
list of favourite Ravel recordings.
A gorgeous album, pianist, conductor and orchestra at their beguiling best;
fine sound, too.
Dan Morgan
Previous review:
John Quinn
(Recording
of the Month)
